


BFFU

by Gallalover



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Break Up, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Humiliation, M/M, Out of Character, Revenge Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallalover/pseuds/Gallalover
Summary: This is companion piece to Prison Gang Bang https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656827and The Worst Feeling, Is Feeling Nothing At All https://archiveofourown.org/works/21674599I tried to see love and future there. So this is it.
Relationships: Gallavich - Relationship, Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	BFFU

**Author's Note:**

> I thought a lot how this should have ended. I didn't find the answer there so wrote my own.  
> This is not a hate fic. This is my coping mechanism. There is no love in this universe. 
> 
> The title says: Big fat f### u  
> or  
> Best Friends Forever Universe  
> choose wisely
> 
> My semi-pathetic attempt to live in my Gallavich paradise.

Ian Gallagher is a pathological liar. If you pin him up against the wall, the first thing he’ll tell you would be a lie. Are you afraid? No. Are you hurt? No. Do you love me?

Mickey smells like somebody else's sweat, breath and lust. This smell soaked in their spoken declaration of love like metastasis under the skin, leading right to the heart. No more pain. They don’t deserve it, right? Mickey taught him a lesson. He showed him how to cope with his inner demons. You should take them out, strip and scourge them. It was revealing. There were three of them. Mickey was a devil himself, who lost his last hope in Ian's love. The shiv is under him, the sharp end touches his skin. He thought about suicide. For real. This would turn his pain into Mickey's again. Final. Fatal? Final word would be his and he'd leave nothing but regret for Mickey for what he had done. Yeah. Now these thoughts are funny. Ian feels the heaviness of Milkovich's black haired head pressed his shoulder. Milkovich was exhausted. After a good bang he was down for some sleep. But if you multiply it… No, this isn’t about number of dicks, which were in him today. Yesterday? Maybe some tomorrow? Mickey was probably so tired because he’d done a dreadful deed - he destroyed the foundation of their relationships and reliance. Now there is no tomorrow for them. Sweet dreams, hard worker, someone will help you build something new, whole and perfect out of this wreckage.

Ian’s chest slowly rises. As his unconditional love evaporates, the tears on his cheeks dry.

„I don’t love you anymore,” he whispers, stuttering in the dark.

Mickey isn't moving. Maybe he's sleeping. Maybe he doesn’t want to respond.

Mickey’s bunk has somebody’s sperm. In Ian’s arms there is somebody else's man. The walls of their little cell have moved even closer, making the cell smaller. Inch by inch. Gallagher can hear their inescapable screeching.

Ian doesn’t need the presumption of innocence. He made mistakes and accepted the responsibility for them. For ruined dreams, for the tragic first love, for belief, that he, the fag from a shitty side of Chicago, deserves something bigger and better than a primitive existence and a rat race. Everything he’d ever done had a beautiful cause. If Mickey had stayed in Mexico with their last kiss and all Ian’s money, Ian would have been happy. Because he’d have helped rescue the man, who for the most part of his life was not free. If he had had a choice, he’d have repeated his path with helping underage victims of homophobia anyway. Ian doesn’t want to have any regrets, so that means he’d respond „I’d do it again„ for each „if“.

Another inch.

Ian doesn’t want to touch Mickey. It’s not because he's grossed out, but because there was suddenly a personal boundary between them. Mickey gets up silently and sits on the iron crapper, like it was a judge’s seat. He truly deserves it though. His elbows are on his knees, legs wide open. He breathes wearily and waits for his very complicated cellmate to say something more. It seems like everything was said, but still... Is it possible that something remains?

„So?“ he asks impatiently, demanding the silence to be broken, while Ian is lying on his bunk like an ugly scarecrow instead of the formerly beautiful human being. „The fuck now? You forgot how to break up? You’re not you anymore? I’m not? C’mon, try to remember, you’re better with this shit than I am.“

Their cell is lit by hallway’s lights. It’s hard not to notice how two sparkling eyes stare at Mickey in this shade. Somewhere behind him. His gaze was aimed at Mickey, on something in him, but not finding it – it went straight through.

„I don’t feel anything for you,“ slowly and honestly says Gallagher. Now he also sits.

They're sitting face to face but they keep not seeing each other.

If the gang bangers came for round two, Ian wouldn’t care.

If Mickey asked for forgiveness for his payback, Ian wouldn’t care.

If Juan became „the one„ for Mickey, Ian wouldn’t care.

„Old news,“ snorts Mickey and licks his lips.

„You fucked my feelings away. Unlike your father, successfully. You surpassed him, you know?“

Mickey clenches his fists. He doesn’t know who he’d like to punch more.

If he hits Ian, they will send him to solitary. And that would be fine.

If Ian hits him, it’ll ease his shitty words. And that would be fine.

If Ian stays silent, Mickey won’t have to ruin his soul again. And that would be fine.

Maybe his intention wasn’t worth it.

Maybe he overrated the power of their love.

Maybe…

“I suppose I don’t love you either,” he says and grins. Ever so easy.

“Suppose you don’t,” Ian supports his light tone. “We can’t hurt us. They call it _a healthy relationships_ , don’t they?”

“The fuck do I know? Never had one.”

“You will,” says Ian friendly. The role of BFF’s suits him perfectly. “That’s for sure.”

They smoked. Each from their own pack. The only shared thing they have now is the _memory_.

The wait for the sun will torture them for a long time before the morning comes. That should fix everything, make it make sense. Boys should believe in something, anything. When firsts rays of light touched the sky, their cell was bigger than ever before. Free-er.


End file.
